"What did you say to me?"
Stephen leaned forward, hating himself.
"Didn't you know, Ellen?"
A dumb mouth answered.
"I had an infected hand. Won't you sit down?"
Ellen did not move. Her eyes lifted, regarded him steadily.
"Did you never wonder why I didn't come?"
Stephen could not endure her gaze. Alas, he was not cured, she was dearer, more desirable than she had ever been. Perhaps if he were wise and wary, if he did not betray himself, he could keep her childish affection until some one won her away! He could then grow gradually accustomed to that which now seemed worse than death.
"You wrote and I answered," he said lightly. "Did you say you were going back to school? Why so early, Ellen?"